


Tradition

by Laurasauras



Series: 2019 Holiday ficlets [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, Hanukkah, M/M, Read This Platonic Or Romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22144366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: A guy like John can't just let someone be alone during the holidays.
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider & John Egbert, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/John Egbert
Series: 2019 Holiday ficlets [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569544
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to ClasspectAnon for the thoughtful beta and for answering all my questions. I'm not Jewish and he was super patient and helpful.

It’s the first day of Hanukkah and you’ve convinced your dad with great difficulty that you couldn’t go home and that he shouldn’t come out to you instead. You have your own menorah, you have Skype, and you actually are looking forward to doing this on your own for the first time. Family is important during the holidays, but when you were a kid you could think of nothing more grown up than being the one to be in control of all the traditions. To cook the food and light the candles and to be the one whose home hosted it. Even though you were telling the truth when you told your dad you were working basically every day (because you can and the people who celebrate Christmas all asked for time off, though the supermarket you work at is shut on the 25th) you like that you have this one time to do it by yourself, to find out how you celebrate when it’s just you.

You love your apartment for a lot of reasons. You love your first shot at independence, you love that it’s cheap and only has things you chose in it and you love that it’s walking distance from work. But the thing that you love most about it, is that the man in the apartment opposite you is _so_ resistant to socialisation and you’re wearing him down.

He’s probably in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, he’s so tall he literally doesn’t fit standing upright in the building’s way-too-old elevator, and you’ve never seen him without sunglasses on even though you’ve never seen him outside the apartment building. When you first introduced yourself, expecting to know your neighbours here like you did in suburban Seattle, he grunted and escaped to his apartment so fast he practically left a cartoon spurt of dust behind him. When you asked him his name, he said, ‘Bro’ and you have no idea if he actually saying his name or if he was being like, _’Bro,_ of course I’m not going to tell you my name.’ You call him Bro anyway. 

You’ve been living here six months now though, and you both take the stairs (you because you promised your dad that you’re getting enough exercise and it totally counts, him because of the tall thing) and he’s come to accept that not replying to you wasn’t going to stop you from talking to him. So now he actually responds! Kind of.

Today, as you both exit your apartments near simultaneously (it happens eerily often), you give him a giant grin and say, ‘Happy holidays!’ with all the enthusiasm that’s been building up in you for the last week of preparing your own celebrations. 

‘Happy holidays,’ he replies, his voice gruff but his expression amused. His shift from disapproval to amusement is probably your greatest success.

‘Do you celebrate anything?’ you ask as you start down the stairs. He keeps pace with you now instead of forcing you to match his speed, something that never discouraged your talking even when it sometimes left you breathless enough to need your inhaler.

‘Nah,’ he says. ‘Christmas is for family and I ain’t got one. Never really saw the point in it when I did, neither.’

You have no idea how you’re supposed to respond to someone casually saying that he doesn’t have a family or even any other options. It’s the most personal information he’s ever dropped and a _way_ more intense answer to the question than you were expecting. Even though he’s opened up a bit, it’s mostly been in the form of asking how your day has been back after you ask him.

‘That’s a shame,’ you say awkwardly. ‘I’m … sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ he snorts. ‘One less person flocking your store like the world’s about to end and disregarding fire codes in the name of pretty lights.’

You search your brain for something positive to say, but you’re drawing a blank. He snorts again when he looks over at you and you think you probably look as awkward as you feel. 

‘What about you, do you celebrate?’

‘Yeah, Hanukkah,’ you say. ‘First day today, actually!’

‘Oh, cool,’ he says. ‘Didn’t realise you were Jewish.’

‘What, my jokes not funny enough?’

He turns away, lowering his head as if his hat can hide his smile, but you’re next to him, not in front of him and it’s wildly unsuccessful.

‘You could come over, if you wanted. Dad and I never made a big deal ‘cause it was just the two of us, but it’s nice, you know?’

‘You’re a relentlessly sweet kid, but I don’t need your charity. I have a four cubic foot chest freezer full of TV dinners, I’m prepared for the motherfucking apocalypse.’

Wow, that might be even sadder than not having any family.

‘I think if I don’t insist you come for dinner then karma will drop a piano on top of me like a cartoon.’

You reach the end of the staircase and he crosses the lobby to the mailboxes. You linger, even though you’ll probably have to rush to make your shift if you take much longer. 

‘I’ll give you fifty bucks if you don’t make me have dinner with you,’ he says dryly. 

You hold your hands up. 

‘Fine, geez,’ you say. ‘Wouldn’t want to ruin your sweet loner street cred or anything.’

He flicks you the bird and you leave. You walk quickly to make up the lost time and are at your shift the required ten minutes early almost to the second. Usually you use those ten minutes to read through the notes previous shifts have made and do general organisation things, but Aradia is looking uncharacteristically stressed on registers so you clock in and get yourself to your own register as quickly as you can. 

You finish the shift unsure if you even take a full breath at any point during it, scanning items as quickly as possible to try and find openings with fewer customers to restock the shelves. Your Santa hat keeps falling in your eyes because you picked the one that hadn’t squeezed your head so tight you thought it’d give your brain an hourglass figure and apparently they only come in those two ridiculous sizes. Honestly, the scratchy uniform is the bigger issue, especially in summer when wearing a shirt under it is uncomfortable. One day you’ll have a job that doesn’t suck.

When you get home, you can hear the low thud of music coming from Bro’s apartment. Your arms are full of last minute supplies and even though you let the issue drop before, you don’t like the idea of him being alone. It’s not that everyone has to celebrate the holidays, it’s just that they’re _so_ pushed in everyone’s faces! So if he really doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with, he must feel so alone. 

Your dad wouldn’t let someone feel alone when he could make them feel better. Or when, at the very least, he could offer them fresh latkes and sufganiyot. In your house, when someone feels bad, they get food. 

You take your stuff into your apartment first, put your breakfast mess into the sink where it’s not immediately obvious, and pick up some stray clothes around the apartment so that it’s looking reasonably clean. Then you cross the hall and knock on the door. 

Bro answers, looming over you intimidatingly when he opens the door but then relaxing into his usual slouch when he sees it’s just you. 

‘Don’t make me actually bribe you,’ he says.

‘It’s not a big deal!’ you say. ‘I won’t even make you talk to me, I’ll just feed you fried food and if you wanna watch a movie we could do that. I’ll light the candle at some point but you don’t have to help if you don’t wanna and it’s really casual and it’ll make me feel better because I won’t be thinking of you sitting in here eating food that is both too hot and too cold at the same time somehow while the world shouts about how magical this time of year at you.’

Bro leans his head against the doorframe and drags his hand down his face, reaching under his shades so he can make the movement last from forehead to chin.

‘Why do you … We’re not friends, John.’

‘That actually isn’t just up to you,’ you say. ‘And it’s okay if you don’t want to call me your friend, but I care about you and I know you aren’t super comfortable with social stuff and that’s okay, I’m not asking you to come to my orthodox uncle’s house and play dreidel for three hours, I’m asking you to come over and eat something that isn’t microwaved and I promise if you really hate it you can leave but please just give me a chance?’

He hesitates a bit longer, and you feel like you’re looking up at him waiting for him to reject you for a million years, but in the end he sighs, straightens up and tells you to give him a minute.

He closes the door, but you think that’s okay. You don’t think he’d tell you he was coming back if he wasn’t. He’s not afraid of telling people to fuck off.

Not even a minute later, he returns in a collared shirt and with his hand closed around something. 

‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ he says. ‘But I saw these today and I heard somewhere … I thought you might like them.’

He hands you a small string bag filled with cheap gelt the kind wrapped in gold foil. You look up at him, smiling. 

‘You thought of me when I wasn’t there,’ you say. 

‘They cost literally fifty cents, it doesn’t mean we’re friends.’

‘Right,’ you say. You’re never going to stop grinning ever. ‘Come over, casual acquaintance who definitely doesn’t care about me, before the stupid amount of fried food I bought gets cold.’

He laughs under his breath and follows you to your apartment.


End file.
